


Arm Candy

by Anonymous



Series: Reddie PWPs [4]
Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Banter, Daddy Kink, Dirty Talk, Drinking, Drunk Sex, Established Relationship, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rimming, Spanking, Top Eddie Kaspbrak/Bottom Richie Tozier, this is actually very romantic it's just also very filthy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-19
Updated: 2021-01-19
Packaged: 2021-03-17 20:29:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28855095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: “I’ve been waiting all night.” Richie’s still smiling as Eddie crawls onto the bed toward him.“Really?” Eddie asks, knees on either side of his thighs. “You spent all night at your own movie premier waiting for me to fuck you?”“I already knew what the movie’s about,” Richie says, grinning, as Eddie draws nearer and nearer to his face. “I wrote it, remember?”
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Series: Reddie PWPs [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2116113
Comments: 12
Kudos: 142
Collections: Clowntown Kink Meme 2021





	Arm Candy

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [clowntown2021](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/clowntown2021) collection. 



> **Prompt:**
> 
> Richie and Eddie are slightly tipsy/drunk after an event and come home and have enthusiastic sex where one or either of them are finally able to ask for something they've been nervous about before. Maybe the first time Eddie tops? 
> 
> Really I just want enthusiastic and silly and dirty, horny sex.

Eddie’s not actually the trophy husband, despite how much Richie likes to joke about it. Richie can make a lot of money in short bursts if he’s touring or if he lands a movie role, but he’s also seen long stretches of time without much good work. Eddie, on the other hand, earns a salary high and consistent enough to keep them afloat during the dry spells of Richie’s creative career. It works well. In fact, one could argue that Eddie’s the one bankrolling Richie’s lifestyle, which makes _Richie_ the trophy husband—and Eddie _has_ argued that, to Richie’s amusement and delight. 

But regardless of which one of them is the trophy, technically speaking, Eddie doesn’t mind playing the part sometimes. 

Tonight they were at the premier for Bill and Richie’s new movie, a writing credit for each of them—an adaptation of one of Bill’s older books that they all quickly realized was subconsciously inspired by his hometown, some of the details bubbling up through the amnesia to become the plot. Richie helped spin it into something more funny than melodramatic, and the end result was a sort of _Stand By Me_ , coming-of-age meets horror thing. Bill and Richie didn’t have to downplay the autobiographical elements _too_ much, at least where the friendship was concerned.

Eddie spent the night either on Richie’s arm, smiling blandly next to him in photographs, or chatting with one of the other Losers while he was giving an interview. 

It was a fun night, and the afterparty was _really_ fun, and now they’re in the elevator climbing up to the top of a downtown LA hotel, Ben and Bev leaning against the wall opposite Eddie and Richie. They step out a couple floors lower, Ben carrying Bev’s heels in one hand, wishing them goodnight as the doors close. 

Alone now for the first time in something like twelve hours, Richie and Eddie have the same idea at the same time.

Eddie spins around and reaches for Richie’s face and Richie hunches down a bit, arms circling Eddie’s waist, to kiss him. It’s filthy from the start, and Eddie groans his relief into Richie’s open mouth. 

Richie looked so good all night Eddie could hardly stand it. He tries to tell him that, now, by filling his mouth with his tongue, swiping behind his teeth. Eddie’s definitely drunk and so is Richie—they’ve both had access to an open bar for something like six hours—and he’s pretty sure the elevator _isn’t_ spinning but with his eyes closed it feels like it. 

He pulls away to take a steadying breath, and Richie says, “I want you to fuck me in this fancy hotel. Maybe we can break the bed.” 

Eddie breathes in again and opens his eyes. The spinning is under control. He should drink some water when they get to their room. He says, “I’m gonna fuck you so hard, baby.” 

Richie grins at the same time that the elevator _dings_ to announce their floor. To a drunk Eddie, it looks like the _ding_ accompanied Richie’s bright-eyed smile so he bursts into laughter. Richie drags him through the open door and they stumble, shushing each other, down the hallway. They pass their room on the first attempt and have to backtrack, squinting at each number until they find theirs. They both fumble into their wallets, but Richie unearths his keycard first, which he promptly drops to the ground. Eddie crouches down to retrieve the keycard and hands it back to him. 

It takes a little while to get the door open. Richie’s tapping the card to the scanner but the light keeps flashing red. Eddie’s not helping much, instead pressed up behind him, arms around his waist and cheek to his back. Richie mumbles, “Is this even the right…?” and rears his head back to look at the numbers again. 

“It’s eighteen-oh-seven,” Eddie says, forgetting to whisper. 

“Is that our room?” 

“Yes.” 

“Are you sure?” 

“Yes!” 

Finally the light flashes green, the lock clicks, and Richie pushes his way inside. Eddie follows him, their feet knocking together as they move, still attached to his back like a koala bear. 

“Get off me.” Richie laughs, spinning around as Eddie still clings to him. “If you’re too drunk to give me a good dicking I’m gonna be _really_ disappointed.” 

“No, I’m good to go.” Eddie takes a step away from him. “I’m just gonna… chug some water and pee, stay right here.” 

“You do that.” Richie flops back on the king-size bed in the middle of the room and Eddie goes to the bathroom. He drinks three glasses of water from the sink. He pees. He touches his dick a little, just to get things going. 

When he leaves the bathroom, Richie lifts his head up off the pillow to watch him cross the room, smiling. He’s got one hand down his loose pants already, moving slowly inside. 

“Couldn’t wait for me?” Eddie asks, as if he wasn’t also just touching himself.

“I’ve been waiting all night.” Richie’s still smiling as Eddie crawls onto the bed toward him. Eddie’s always thought that’s cute, how much Richie smiles and laughs in bed; it’s disarming and contagious. Eddie’s never smiled this much. 

“Really?” Eddie asks, knees on either side of his thighs. “You spent all night at your own movie premier waiting for me to fuck you?” 

“I already knew what the movie’s about,” Richie says, grinning, as Eddie draws nearer and nearer to his face. “I wrote it, remember?” 

Eddie kisses him, his lower lip first pressed on Richie’s teeth until his smile fades enough to kiss him back. Richie bites at Eddie’s lip and that’s like flipping a switch. Eddie wants to _devour_ him and he tries to, showering him in sloppy wet kisses that miss his mouth about half the time, landing on his chin. Richie’s breathing heavy and still moving his hand inside his pants, where it bumps up against Eddie’s thigh, and Eddie loves that he’s touching himself while they kiss, that he’s apparently too worked up not to. 

“God, you’re so fucking hot, Richie,” Eddie tells him, speaking with his lips still on the side of his face. “Touching yourself like that, it’s driving me crazy.” 

Richie makes a soft _unh_ sound in the back of his throat and Eddie rears back on his knees. 

“I wanna see you. Take off your clothes.” 

Yeah, fuck,” Richie mutters. He starts with his shirt, wrestling the tiny delicate buttons. He’s so frantic about it it’s kind of funny, as he tears off his shirt then wiggles out of his pants, shaking the entire mattress in his hurry. It’s the farthest thing from a slow striptease, but Eddie appreciates the show of desperation; it makes the blood race in his veins. 

Eddie starts with his own shirt too, unbuttoning from the collar down but Richie suddenly stops and looks up at him. 

“What?” Eddie asks, pausing unsurely.

Richie’s mostly undressed, just his pants hooked around one foot and his black dress socks still on, pulled up past his ankles. His cock rests full and thick against one thigh.

“I want you to stay dressed,” Richie says. “While you prep me.”

He’s often not that straightforward about asking for what he wants in bed; usually has to undercut it with a joke or throw in a quick, ‘If that’s okay with you.’ Eddie _loves_ being able to give Richie what he wants, so he’s tried to chip away at his deflection habit by rewarding him every time he does ask for what he wants. It’s no hardship as far as Eddie is concerned. 

“Yeah, that’s really hot,” Eddie says. He doesn’t unbutton his shirt further but he starts to roll up his sleeves, explaining, “Don’t wanna make a mess.” 

Richie drops his head back flat on the mattress as he kicks his pants off the rest of the way and tugs off his socks. Eddie digs into his toiletry bag for lube, considers a condom and decides to ask Richie, who has no preference, and he ends up bringing one over just in case. Leaving incriminating stains on the hotel bedspread is too mortifying a concept for him to even consider.

Richie’s lying naked and patient on the bed, legs bent, feet flat on the mattress. Eddie perches on the edge of the mattress and taps his knee. 

“I want you on your stomach.”

Richie rolls over eagerly, and, god. Eddie does love his back. He folds his arms to rest his head on them and that just makes his shoulders look broader, a smooth expanse of skin that narrows toward his waist. 

“I was so proud of you tonight.” Eddie says it casually, while he uncaps a bottle of lube, but he doesn’t miss the way Richie seems to tense a bit and then relax consciously, how his hips twitch slightly. He’s lying flat, emphasizing the curve of the small of his back before the swell of his ass. Eddie is rock hard in his pants, but it’s relatively rare that Richie will lie still and be content to just let Eddie do stuff to him, so he’s not about to rush this.

Eddie _is_ pretty drunk though, so he accidentally spurts out way too much lube.

“Shit,” he mutters, as some dribbles through his fingers and to the carpet below. Some lands on his toe.

“Everything good back there?” Richie asks, a clear smile in his voice.

“All good,” Eddie confirms, panicking a little. His solution, in his foggy mind, is that he claps his palm, all greasy with excess lube, onto Richie’s left butt cheek.

Richie reacts immediately, his body jolting while he says with clarity: “ _Oh_.” 

“Sorry,” Eddie mutters, withdrawing his hand.

__“You should–” Richie blurts, and then stops. His face is resting on his folded arms, turned into the mattress so he’s not looking at Eddie. Maybe this makes it easier to say it. “While you finger me you should… do that.”_ _

__Eddie almost laughs but luckily doesn’t. “Spank you?” he asks. “What do they say, if you can’t say it, you’re not ready to do it?”_ _

__Eddie’s bluffing though; his palms are itching for it._ _

__“Yes, fine, spank me,” Richie says in his typical style of sarcastically saying exactly what he wants. Eddie’s used to it. “Spank my ass, Eddie. There, are you happy?”_ _

__“Very,” Eddie says, and gives Richie’s other cheek a firm swat._ _

__Richie tenses again and relaxes, letting out his breath in a rush as he sinks into the mattress._ _

__Eddie has to prep him, too, but now he’s trying to decide if he should use his dominant hand for the fingering or the spanking—but his right hand’s already covered in lube, so. With his left, he takes a rough handful of Richie’s ass and spreads him open, and rubs at his rim with slick fingertips._ _

__Richie squirms, a satisfying reaction, clutching his own hands together._ _

Eddie really _likes_ it when he squirms so he leans forward to add his tongue to the mix, licking next to his fingers, tasting lube and Richie’s skin. 

“Ah, fuck, _Eddie_ ,” Richie gasps. “You’re so fucking good to me.” 

Yeah, that’s fucking _right_ , Eddie thinks, as he dips his tongue inside, just the barest tip. He wants to be good to Richie because he likes it and because Richie deserves it, but maybe he wants to hear it sometimes, too. Is that so wrong? His dick really likes hearing it, anyway. 

__“Tell me,” Eddie says, before he goes back to tonguing at Richie’s rim while he works a finger inside. Richie’s so tight, he always is when they first get started, but Eddie doesn’t mind taking the time to pamper him._ _

Richie groans, and pushes his ass back a little into Eddie’s face, so Eddie uses his free hand to give him another firm _smack_. 

As Eddie rocks his fingers back and forth, gradually loosening him up, Richie starts to babble, shaking against the sheets. “Eddie, I love it when you– _ah_ , when you come to this shit with me, I like having you on my arm, taking pictures with you…” 

__“Yeah?” God, Eddie feels like he’s on fire, and it’s not helped by the fact that Richie insisted he stay fully dressed. “I play the part well, don’t I?”_ _

__“Yeah, you look so fucking good with me,” Richie says, and tries to push back against Eddie again, who rewards him with a slap. His skin is starting to redden, and Eddie’s palm tingles._ _

__“But I’m the one really calling the shots, right?” Eddie says, his voice low. “They don’t know that.”_ _

__“Yes, yes, Eddie.”_ _

__Eddie’s getting off on their little power-play banter, but Richie definitely is, too, twisting and moaning beneath him. He’s taking two of Eddie’s fingers now, taking them well, not too snug. Eddie can thrust them in and out now, quick and without resistance. He looks like he needs to get fucked._ _

“You look like you need to get fucked,” Eddie tells him, and Richie _moans_. 

__“Please, Daddy.”_ _

Eddie pauses for only a moment wondering if he’s misheard—his name doesn’t really sound _all_ that far off from what he thinks Richie just moaned—before the wave of heat crashes into him, leaving no space to overthink it. 

“Yeah, fuck, baby, I’m gonna fuck you, hold on a second.” 

Eddie’s heart is hammering in his throat, throbbing in his cock. He stands up over the edge of the bed and sheds his pants quickly, before fumbling to spin Richie around. 

__“On your back for me, Richie, just like that.” Eddie hauls him a bit closer until he’s right on the edge of the bed, his legs extended. Eddie directs him to rest his calves against Eddie’s shoulders._ _

__The hotel bed is particularly tall so it’s already close, but Richie grabs a pillow from above his head to shove under his ass and then they line up perfectly. It’s like a chaotic but choreographed dance—they hit their marks, somehow. Years of practice, probably._ _

__Eddie gets the condom on, because he’s at least cognizant enough to remember not wanting to make an embarrassing mess, and then he looks at Richie’s face._ _

__He’s flushed, sweaty ends of his hair stuck to his forehead, eyes dark and fixed on Eddie._ _

__“You’re so sexy,” Eddie says. “Gonna show you how much I want you.”_ _

__He takes his cock by the base with one hand and spreads open Richie’s cheeks with the other so he can feed himself in._ _

__He does it slowly, pausing just after his flared head pops in so he can watch Richie breathe through it, feel his thigh twitch in his hand. Another inch, and Richie’s hands clutch the sheets while his body adjusts._ _

__“You feel so good, so tight around me,” Eddie says, now getting both hands on Richie’s thighs, running his fingers through the coarse hair._ _

__Richie’s lips are red and wet from biting them, his chest flushed, his arms by his side. His cock rests between his legs, curved up to his belly, rising and falling along with his breath. It looks swollen, almost painful; Richie gets so hard from this and won’t touch himself because he wants it to last as long as possible._ _

Eddie doesn’t have the same patience anymore; he _needs_ to fuck Richie, like, yesterday. Feeling wild with want, he draws his hips back and rocks in. The first thrust is a tight drag that Eddie feels every inch of. Richie gasps, arching his back. It gets smoother from there, until Eddie’s fucking at a steady pace, his hips bruising Richie’s thighs. 

__Richie’s whole body moves against the mattress, pushed up with each thrust only to rebound back into place on the edge of the bed. Eddie likes this visual evidence of how hard he’s fucking him, how Richie gives himself over to it, his whole body loose and malleable. Richie seems totally overwhelmed, too, his hands gripping at the sheets above his head, eyes half-lidded._ _

__“Richie, baby,” Eddie pants. He’s sweating through his shirt, which he’s still wearing just because Richie told him to keep it on, buttoned-up with the sleeves rolled up. It must look absurd now that he’s dropped his pants, but Richie apparently has no complaints—or verbal ability at this point, appearing all but a boneless rag doll beneath him. “Richie, gonna make you come on my cock.”_ _

__He whines at that, and brings one hand down to stroke himself, quick and firm right from the start._ _

__“Yeah, yeah.” Eddie picks up the pace, slamming in harder until he draws out little staccato noises from Richie. “Touch yourself, baby. Just like that.”_ _

When Richie’s close, he’s unpredictable. Sometimes he can come with little-to-no physical effect, just a change in the rhythm of his breathing as he tips over to a quiet release. Sometimes, now, with Eddie pounding his ass and his legs up in the air, it’s a little more volatile. He bucks his hips, knees Eddie _in the face_ which rattles his jaw, teeth clacking together, and whines, high-pitched, as he spurts onto his own chest and stomach. 

__The pace falters, but Eddie keeps fucking him, readjusting his grip on his legs. He gives one of his thighs a hearty slap followed by a firm squeeze and Richie moans low in his throat._ _

__“Say it again,” Eddie says, hoping he won’t have to specify what._ _

__Richie picks up on it immediately, and Eddie thinks that they are truly soulmates._ _

__“Come on me, Daddy.”_ _

__Richie rubs his own hands over his chest, smearing cum through his chest hair. He circles a finger around one taut nipple._ _

__Eddie pulls out and fumbles with the condom—it either falls limply to the floor or goes flying across the room, he doesn’t give a shit either way—and he leans over Richie, bending his legs down almost flush to his chest. In this position, Eddie jerks himself only a few times before he’s coming onto Richie’s stomach, hard enough that his legs shake and his eyelids flash white._ _

__He stays there for a moment after, crushing Richie to the bed, folded in half and covered in cum. He breathes hard, resting his head against Richie’s chest, a dark and private space._ _

Then Richie’s hands are trailing up his sweaty back, over the ruined shirt he’s still wearing. “You came _so much_ ,” Richie says, laughing softly. 

“I came so _hard_ ,” Eddie says, still a bit in awe. Earth-shattering is the word, he supposes. “I think I’m stuck like this. Can’t move.” 

His feet are still on the floor but barely; Richie chuckles and rolls him off, finally letting his own legs flop out straight. Richie heaves a sigh. “Ho-ly _shit_.” 

__“You have some explaining to do,” Eddie mutters into Richie’s arm, which is a bit clammy from drying sweat._ _

“ _I_ have explaining to do?” Richie shoots back, somehow already back at full volume and energy. “What about _you?_ I’m just throwing shit at the wall, seeing what sticks, and… you are surprisingly… sticky.” 

__Eddie wrinkles his nose. “We have to get cleaned up.”_ _

__“Mostly me,” Richie muses, tracking a thumb through the mess on his stomach. “Daddy’s little cum dumpster.”_ _

__“We have to drink water, too,” Eddie says, face still pressed into the sheets. “Already staring down the barrel of a hangover, and now…”_ _

__“Now you jizzed the remaining fluid in your body all over me and you’re turning to dust, yeah.”_ _

__They lie there for another moment, Eddie still not moving, before Richie lets out a long-suffering sigh and says, “Okay, I’ll do it. What’s aftercare? No, don’t get up, Richie can do it.” He’s already puttering around though, so Eddie doesn’t feel too bad. He can hear him running the sink in the bathroom, toweling himself down. He says loudly, “I will wipe the lube out of my own ass even though I didn’t put it there, that’s fine.”_ _

__Eddie snorts a laugh._ _

__Richie comes back with two glasses of water and Eddie sits up enough to strip out of his own shirt and drink his._ _

__“I guess I jumped straight into negging,” Richie says while Eddie takes long slow sips. “That was really good, by the way.”_ _

__Eddie smiles. He dribbles a little water down his chin because he can barely be bothered to sit up, but Richie reaches over to catch it with his fingers. Then he licks his fingers, the unmitigated fucking weirdo._ _

__“I know,” Eddie says._ _

__“Okay, humble,” Richie mutters, rolling his eyes. “This is why I have to go straight to the negging after sex, you’re getting an ego about it.”_ _

____

—

In the morning, somebody’s knocking on their door. This is unacceptable under the best of circumstances and currently Eddie is really hungover and has Richie wrapped around his back, breathing hot against his neck. There’s no way he’s getting out of bed any time soon.

“Do not disturb,” he murmurs, not loud enough to be heard by anyone outside the room. Richie hums his assent. 

There are no more knocks after that, and they catch up with Ben and Bev about an hour later down in the lobby for breakfast.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you totally anonymous prompter ;) i hope you liked this.


End file.
